


Oh! You Pretty Things.

by springburn



Series: Random musings from The Capaldi character file. [10]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Prime Suspect (UK), crossover fandoms
Genre: 1990's au, A New Beginning, Companionship, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Love, M/M, Mention of attempted suicide, Peter Capaldi character file, Transexual, gay and straight relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first chapter starts as the series leaves off, after Vera's questioning in the Police Station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rock and Roll Suicide.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is following on directly from the events of Prime Suspect 3. First shown in 1993.  
> Peter played the role of Vera Reynolds, a drag artiste, caught up in the sleazy world of rent boys and prostitutes, porn and paedophile rings.  
> A young rent boy is murdered in Vera's flat. DCI Jane Tennison is the investigating officer. There is involvement from high ranking police officers, and she is being leaned on from above to let the case alone. James Jackson is a thuggish pimp who runs the rent boys. Edward Parker-Jones is head of a drop in advice centre, and has a history of child abuse. He preys on the young and homeless that come to the centre. But has never been charged.  
> More aspects of the back story will be told as necessary. It is not essential to have watched the show, but obviously it will help. 
> 
> I have watched this show many times. It is a superb story. But we never know what happens to poor Vera. I've always wanted to write it......and now I am. 
> 
> Clara is there because I need a sympathetic female lead, who is nonjudgemental, strong but also lonely, and Clara fits the bill perfectly. Readers are familiar with her, know the character well and can relate.  
> The story follows the death of Danny Pink. 
> 
> There will be a twist at the end of the story.......spoilers!! 
> 
> Clara is a nurse in this AU, not a teacher. 
> 
> I must add here that I am in no way an expert on this genre. If I make mistakes then they are honest ones! 
> 
> It is worth mentioning that Vera is a transsexual. She sees herself as a woman, trapped in a man's body, and is saving up for her 'operation'. She goes with gay men through necessity rather than choice, and prefers straight men. Not to be confused with transvestites, who are largely cross dressers and are, in the main heterosexual, often married or have girlfriends and wish to remain male. 
> 
> I also wish to say that in putting Clara in the story, I am not, nor have I ever, in this or in previous stories where Clara has been included, grounding my own feeling of a relationship between Peter and Jenna. It is purely about the characters alone and I do a great deal of research into getting them right. The characters are everything, and it has nothing whatever to do with the real people themselves. 
> 
> In light of the sad event at the beginning of this new year, all the titles of story and chapters will be David Bowie songs, each one will be pertinent to the chapter it heads.

OH! YOU PRETTY THINGS. 

CHAPTER ONE.  
ROCK AND ROLL SUICIDE. 

There was a strange feeling of floating. Being above everything. Disconnected, and wonderfully free.  
Opening her eyes slightly, all she could see was a very bright light. Figures moving across it.  
No features, just animated black shapes, just recognisable as humanoid. 

So this was death. 

This was what it felt like. A sensation of restfulness and peace.  
Sound muffled and indistinct.  
A numbness both of mind and body. She could feel nothing, no pain, no discomfort at all.  
There was no sorrow either, that terrible notion of fear and panic had melted away.  
Letting her eyes flutter shut, she gave in to it, that immense and all encompassing tiredness.  
She drifted away into blissful sleep. 

"We're losing him!"  
"CRASH!! Quickly! Paddles on......firing up! Standing back! And SHOCK! Checking! And paddles on.......Standing back! And.....shock!"  
"I have a pulse!" 

oOo

Time ceased to have meaning.  
Gradually coming to wakefulness once more.  
Eyes opening slowly, coming into focus.  
Everything still fuzzy around the edges. Moving her head slightly, she could see a person, sitting by her side.  
Little by little realisation dawned. 

She was not dead. 

This was real.  
Taking in her surroundings. The bright light, not celestial but a neon strip. The moving figures not angels, but nurses, doctors, people going about their business.  
A metal framed bed, a sky blue coverlet. Her arms resting on top of a crisp white sheet, one connected to a length of plastic tubing, which snaked up at the side of her, attached to a bag of red fluid.  
A vague stinging sensation in the arms, an ache in the head.  
Tension in the chest, bruising, she felt as if she'd been hit by a truck. Sticky pads, glued there firmly, connected to more wires, which were, in turn, affixed to a machine at the far side of the bed, which beeped reassuringly. 

A scrape of a chair close at hand. The person she'd noticed sitting at the bedside now standing, a slightly pressure of a hand on her arm, a face staring down at her. 

Round and pretty with large brown expressive eyes. Brunette, with tiny stud earrings, but a hole in the helix on the left, which would take a chain or a stud of its own. Hair scragged back into a ponytail. Neat but discreet makeup.  
Small and petite, with a bright and open smile. In a blue button through dress. Name tag, fob watch.  
So, a nurse then. 

"Welcome back Vernon! Nice to have you with us again." 

Blinking a couple of times. A grimace at the sound of the name.  
All horribly real. 

"Where am I?" Her voice sounded odd inside her head, not like her own at all, or how she remembered it. The throat parched and sore.  
Raising the hand that was not attached to the IV line she touched her own chin.  
Horror! There was stubble there. 

Oh God! This wasn't death, it wasn't even life. It was a nightmare. 

"You're in St Giles......ITU. How are you feeling?" The nurse's face was kindly enough. 

"Absolutely awful!" Becoming painfully aware now. A hospital gown, with ties down the back, except they were undone and the gown tugged down at the front, presumably for easy access.  
Flat chest exposed. No underwear of any description. At least two days growth of beard. 

"I'll let Sister know you're awake." She gave the arm a gentle squeeze, before moving away.

Fighting to keep control, as thoughts began rushing in on her like a rip tide.  
The last things she remembered. The police station, the interview, all the trauma of finally telling the truth. Out it all came. She'd actually killed someone. Taken an ashtray, and hit Connie over the head with it. So angry, so hurt, so frightened. Now she'd go to prison, and god knows what would happen next.  
The way the police officers looked at her. Their ill disguised disgust.  
Going into the toilet, they took her into the Gents. It was purposely done, just to make her feel that little bit more worthless and degraded than she already did.  
It was the last thing she remembered. Going into the booth and locking the door. That and the feeling of utter desolation. Pure terror. 

Why hadn't she died? 

Tears unchecked rolled down her face. Snivelling now. Unable to prevent it. Past caring anyway.  
What did it matter now?  
Her clothes had probably been stripped in A&E.......oh the ignominy! By the time she reached the Intensive Care ward, she was probably just an unconscious body in a hospital gown with the name tag of Vernon.  
How were they to know? 

They might have checked. 

Sobbing now, as the little nurse returned, a look of concern on her face. 

"Vernon? What's wrong? Are you in pain?" She came to the bedside again, leaning over, taking a paper towel to wipe the tears. 

"Did they not tell you about me? Please! I'm not Vernon! Please nurse! I need......oh God! There's no one to.......I can't bear it.......please!" Head shaking from side to side in an unquenchable fire of anguish, the deepest, most profound sorrow, with no way to assuage it. 

"What is it? Tell me......if I can help you I will." She placed her hand over the top of her patient's, touching it soothingly.  
Listening with widening eyes as she tried to explain. Where to even begin, the acute embarrassment, her fear, everything that laying here in this bed in this state meant to her finer feelings. All pouring out in a gabble of words and salt water. 

"Oh, Vera, I'm so sorry. I had no idea! I'm not in charge, but I'll do what I can. Please forgive me." 

She seemed genuinely to care. Vera could see the mortification. It surprised her, she wasn't used to unquestioned acceptance, she was still less used to someone actually giving a damn. 

The brown eyed nurse retreated, and gradually tears subsided, and with a click from the machine which guided the flow from the saline bag which had apparently replaced the red, above and behind her head, a feeling of creeping euphoria began to take her again. As the measured dose of morphine kicked in. A warm glow of forgetfulness.  
Sliding down into restful sleep.


	2. Sorrow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An act of kindness surprises Vera.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the medical stuff is pertaining to the nineties. Things have obviously changed considerably since!

CHAPTER TWO.   
SORROW.

 

Next morning.  
Washed and shaved at least. Taken off the heart monitor.   
The little nurse came on her morning shift. 

"Morning Vera. How are you?" 

"Better. A little. Thank you." How pathetically grateful for even a grain of kindness, so used to just the opposite, expecting nothing from anyone, she thought.

"I've bought you some stuff. I hoped it might help. I raided the linen cupboard for a nightie.....it's not exactly Dior, but it's better than the gown.......now you've not got the ECG machine attached.......but you're quite tall, I found the longest one I could! Oh....and I've bought in some of my makeup.....and a mirror......I thought maybe we could do your face, if you can't manage one handed.....might make you feel a bit more human!" 

A look of incredulity, at that small gesture.   
"That's so sweet.......but you didn't have to........sorry I don't even know your name?"   
She smiled, that most winning of smiles, and held her name badge out towards her, still pinned to her chest.  
"Miss C Oswald." She read aloud.  
"But you can call me Clara. I hate Miss Oswald.....so formal.....even for hospital!"   
She tipped the contents of the zip up bag out onto the bed.   
Mascara, eye shadows, rouge, powder compact, foundation, eyebrow pencil, kohl pencil and a mirror, and various other items of the feminine art, strewn there.   
"There we go! It's not good stuff, but it's the best I can do! Do you need help, or can you manage one handed?" She perched her bottom on the edge of the bed, sifting through.  
"This colour eyeshadow would suit you.....you have lovely eyes!"   
Vera looked bashful, and chanced a shy smile.   
"I'll manage I think. And thank you." She said.  
"No problem......I'll leave you to it.......afterwards, I'll come back because I need to change those dressings." She indicated Vera's bandaged wrists, hopped down from the bed, and bustled away. 

It was sometime later that she returned, wearing a plastic apron over her crisp blue uniform, wheeling a stainless steel trolley. A dressing pack unopened on the top of it.   
Vera was laying now, propped up on several pillows. Makeup carefully applied. Her eyes were open, but cast down slightly, a far away look in them.   
The IV line discontinued now, as she was able to drink freely, and the morphine was no longer required.   
Clara observed her for a few seconds silently. Such emptiness, such hopelessness.   
A look of loss and despair. Deep in thought and unaware of her presence.

"Vera? I've come to change your dressings." 

She snapped back into the room with a jolt.   
"You look nice!" Clara remarked gently, " I said that colour would suit you!"   
"I have some pain killers for you......you can take them with a glass of water. Take the edge off."   
She held out a little plastic cup, containing two bomb shaped pills. At Vera's questioning look, she offered,  
"Tramadol! It's got morphine in it, but a smaller dose.....it'll make you feel a bit floaty.....but not quite as strong as the stuff you were getting through the IV......okay?"  
She nodded and took the proffered tablets, knocking them back with a glug of water and swallowing heavily. 

"It's going to be mighty sore, but I'll do my best to be gentle. If you need a break just shout....okay?"   
Vera nodded again, a slight tremble in the chin.   
She began by removing the outer bandages. They were stained with seepage, and cushioned with much wadding and gauze.  
"It's a bit stuck, but I'll try not to hurt you, look away if it makes you squeamish." She said.   
Vera didn't look away, she watched, with morbid fascination, riveted by the grisly spectacle. From time to time wincing and drawing in a sharp breath, as each layer was teased apart, and the soiled dressings were removed.   
Eventually a livid and jagged line was revealed, one on each wrist, carefully stitched and repaired. Deep and angry, with slight bruising along the scar line.  
"You made a good job of it." Clara remarked quietly as she cleaned the wounds gently with saline swabs, held between tweezers.   
Vera offered no reply.  
"You must have been pretty desperate." She continued, glancing up into her face." And very unhappy."   
"I should have died. It would have been better." Her voice was a rasp, indistinct, tearful.   
"You very nearly did. It was a close run thing." With deft use of the forceps she began to redress the incisions carefully. "Why Vera? Why did you do it? Were you depressed?" 

To Clara's surprise her patient laughed. It was a hollow, empty sound.   
"You could say that! It's a long story!" She replied, as Clara applied fresh padding and a crepe bandage.   
"I'm a good listener." She cocked her head to one side slightly. "There! You're done." She announced.   
"I can't! I don't want to. If you knew about me you wouldn't be half so kind. I've done a terrible thing. Many terrible things. So terrible I can't bear to think about them. I don't want to live, I just don't!" She broke down into a fresh flurry of sobs. 

Clara frowned, and pushing the trolley aside, drew the curtains around the bed. Sitting down on the edge of it and closing both her hands over Vera's. Capturing her long fingers in her own, and holding them tightly.   
She said nothing more, offered neither comment or remark, but sat still and quiet.   
Waiting patiently.   
The recently applied mascara ran down her cheeks, merging and smudging, as she wept. After a while she calmed slightly, and reaching forwards with a soft tissue, Clara mopped at the muddy mess, first from one side and then the other. 

"Vera, if they think you're severely depressed, a danger to yourself, they'll try to get you sectioned. You know that, right? You'll end up on the psychiatric ward......they'll be sending someone to assess you soon. Now that you're out of danger and well enough to be transferred. It's another label you don't need. And people love labels......transgender, gay, transvestite, depressive, criminal, disabled.....you name it, they label it......and you're stuck with it forever."  
"They'll lock me away anyway. Once I'm well. It's the only thing for people like me. That's what I was most afraid of. That's why I did it. I can't go to prison Clara, I can't! Not again." 

Her face did not change one iota at Vera's admission of having been in prison, no raise of the eyebrows, no quizzical look. There was no barrage of questions, demanding explanations and reasons, nothing. 

Instead she squeezed the hands again, and said,  
"Come on..........now you're not all wired up, we can get you to the bathroom. I'll help you. You can have a proper wash and clean your face. I'll stay with you. You can't get those dressing wet, but we can do our best......then it'll be lunch time. For me.....as well as for you!" 

"Why are you being so nice to me? No one is ever nice to me......not unless they want something from me........there's always an agenda, people take but never give........." She swung her legs out of the bed, holding Clara's hand tightly for support. 

She was as weak as a kitten. 

"I'm just doing my job Vera. Plain and simple. You need help. I'm giving you that help. And, for what it's worth, I care.......okay? I care what happens to you."   
Together they began to make their way to the washroom. Vera shuffling along on bare feet.   
"Goodness, but you are tall!" Clara smiled.....looking up, "lean on my shoulder, and if you feel like you're going to pass out, for heavens sake say......or you'll flatten me, there's no way I'm catching you.....I'll have to let you sink down!"   
Vera's mouth twitched slightly at the comical sight that the two of them must make......Clara not much more than five foot in her stocking feet, she, at least six foot, and although skinny, big enough to see over the top of the nurse's head with ease. 

Once returned to bed and made comfortable, Clara fussed with tucking in the sheet and blanket, passing Vera a cup of tea.  
As she was about to leave her, a colleague came to her side, whispered something in her ear, then hurried away.   
She turned to the patient, her face clouded.  
Without a word, she drew the curtains around the bed. 

"You have a visitor, Vera. A Detective Chief Inspector Jane Tennison. I'll leave you both to it."


	3. Comfortably Numb.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera has a hospital visitor.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both characters of Jackson and Parker-Jones are, quite frankly, nasty pieces of work, for different reasons.  
> Jackson is a bully and a thug who installs fear wherever he goes. He is a pimp who runs the young boys, groomed and supplied by Parker-Jones from among the vulnerable youngsters who attend the Drop-In Centre. He has also been accused of sexual abuse by Anthony. Jane Tennison is unable to obtain a conviction on him, but leaves his file for the journalist Jessica to read, so that she will expose him in the press.  
> It is my own surmising that Jackson will be arrested and charged as there seems no doubt that enough evidence exists to convict him.

CHAPTER THREE.  
COMFORTABLY NUMB. 

As Clara left, she passed the DCI in the corridor.  
They eyed each other warily.  
A pinched rather harsh face, Clara thought. Neat and businesslike, but not empathetic.  
Part of her wished she could be in on the conversation, but considered that little good would come of it. She approached the policewoman cordially, but firmly.  
"Please don't be too long, officer. She's been through an awful lot and this is her first full day of really being with it. She's still very weak and very emotional."  
"Yes, of course. I'll be as brief as possible. Thank you."  
Clara watched the DCI disappear behind the curtain, and went back to her desk to write up some notes, where she could at least still see into the small ward. 

"Hello, Vera. How are you?" Jane pulled a chair closer to the bedside.  
"Oh! We're back to Vera are we? That must mean you want something from me." She replied, her fingers picking idly at the coverlet, eyes cast down.  
"No. I want nothing from you. I've come to tell you a couple of things. I came as soon as I heard you were awake, back in the land of the living."  
She waited, but Vera offered no comment, nor did she raise her eyes.  
"Okay, I see how it is! You don't trust me. That's fine!" Tennison sat back in the chair and folded her arms across her chest. 

The patient almost exploded into a gale of false laughter. 

"TRUST YOU! Why should I trust you? You got what you wanted from me. You just pretended to like me. To gain that trust. Then it was back to 'Vernon'......contempt.....vilification. You said I lied to you, but you lied to me! I tried to give you clues, I put myself in grave danger. Jackson knows.....he'll catch up with me for sure! Once I get out......if I ever get out! I doubt they'll be lenient.....why should they be? I killed Connie, and I'll be punished. They'll send me to a male prison, like they did before....when I was young, and I'll be attacked and raped every night, just as I was then. I'll probably die there.....it'll save Jackson the trouble!" 

Tears trickled silently down her face. 

"Jackson is going inside. He's been charged, he'll get ten years! At the very least. And I'm not even going to ask you to testify against him. I realise that you can't. We have enough to get a conviction without your input. That's what I wanted to explain to you. That's why I'm here Vera. And to tell you didn't kill Connie. She was still alive. She died in the fire. You and I both know who started that! But I can't prove it.....yet! But they'll be exposed......don't you worry.......I've seen to that!"  
Vera was still and quiet. Processing the information. 

"I didn't kill Connie?" She whispered. 

"No Vera, you didn't. And you won't be charged. I'm being pressured from above. They'll be no trial for Connie's death. The case is effectively closed, on the back burner. Parker-Jones is as guilty as sin, but we've nothing......absolutely nothing, except I've quietly ensured that Jessica has all she needs for a story......only you don't know that and you didn't hear me say it."  
She reached into her handbag.  
"Here are the pictures she took from your album. She returned them to me, to return to you." 

She passed Vera a white envelope. The hand that took it trembled. 

"You need to get yourself away from the likes of Jackson, and that bloody Pink Flamingo club......"

Vera gave a hollow laugh.

"You really don't live in the real world do you.......Detective Constable!! You've no idea what it's like for someone like me! What would you suggest I do? I have to work, I have to earn money to live. Who's going to employ 'lil ol me'? Eh? Who? The club act earns me a wage. It's not much, but it's enough. Jackson sends clients my way sometimes......he's not my pimp, he prefers them younger......like Colin/Connie, but sometimes people ask him for someone older......gays mostly, so he sends them my way, I have to oblige......it pays the rent. I prefer straight men, but they're hard to come by......I try to save......for my operation......it's my dream......."

She blew her nose dramatically into a tissue. 

"I realise it's hard......" Tennison began.

"No you don't! You have no idea! Acceptance.....that's what it's all about.....being free to be what I want to be......the feelings I've had inside me ever since I was twelve. Knowing that something 'wasn't right'! Being told I was a bloody freak. Being made to feel dirty and different and weird. My parents didn't want to know....what a disappointment.....can you imagine.....their lovely boy......who wants to be a woman......wear dresses.....makeup. How disgusting, how depraved! "

Vera wrung her hands together as she spoke. 

"A large proportion of the gay community only want what they can get out of you......a man they can sleep with who won't fight back too much, who's feminine, that they can dominate, it's not about affection with them, it's about the sex.......oftentimes they're not even 'out'.......some are married men, it's all about their own denial.....if they sleep with me they can make believe......that they're not really gay, they've got themselves a bird.....when really they haven't, really they just want a willing arse to fuck. All so sordid!  
That's why I like straight men.......Connie was like me in that. Straight men want me to be a woman, they treat me like one, and that is the best feeling. Having a woman friend too.....someone to have a girl talk with......someone who doesn't care, who doesn't see me as a man in a dress.......they're very few and far between too! Believe me.  
Oh no! Detective Constable......you have no idea whatever. Now, if you've told me what you came to tell me, I'd like you to leave. I don't want to talk to you anymore." 

Rising from the chair, Tennison came to the bedside.  
"I understand Vera. And I'm sorry. But I had a case to investigate, a job to do. A murder to solve, and I was just trying to do my job. Sometimes that means sacrificing people's finer feelings. You're off the hook, that's what I came to tell you. And I've done that. I hope you find what you're looking for.....truly.....if it's really out there.......I wish that for you. Whether you think I'm telling the truth or not."

She turned and left without another word. Leaving Vera weeping softly.


	4. Changes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCI Tennison has been to interview Vera. Clara is on late shift next day........

CHAPTER FOUR.   
CHANGES.

Seeing the DCI leaving from her vantage point at the desk, Clara went to check on Vera.   
Finding her patient in floods of tears yet again.  
"Are you alright? I came to see if you'd like tea?" She asked kindly.   
"Yes. Yes I would. Thank you." Vera wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly.   
"Vera, can I ask? You don't have to answer, but are you in some kind of trouble?" Clara sat down on the edge of the bed.   
"Not now, it seems. I thought I was. In deep trouble, but it seems I'm not. Although I still did a terrible thing, I can't say anymore than that." She replied, quietly.   
Clara fetched the tea from the trolley in the corridor.   
"Was it why you cut your wrists? Why you were depressed?" She enquired.  
Vera nodded, and sipped noisily.   
"I wasn't depressed, depression didn't come into it. I was just terrified."  
Clara considered this.   
"Maybe not, but they'll think you were. I'm asking because it'll go better for you tomorrow when the psychiatric consultant comes, if that's the case, you must be sure to tell her, explain. You don't have to tell me anything, I don't want to know, but if you have a specific reason for what happened and they don't think you're ill, they'll allow you home, when you're recovered." Clara reached across to take the empty cup.   
"Home! Ha! That's a joke." She laughed, "I haven't anywhere to go! I'll have to see if I can doss on a friend's couch, or kip at the Pink Flamingo Club."   
"What? Why do you have nowhere to go?" Her voice showed concern.  
"My flat is burned out. I don't even know what I can salvage. I haven't been back there, there may be nothing left. God! What a bloody mess." She put her head in her hands. 

oOo

The following day Clara was on late shift. That had advantages and disadvantages.   
Nice lie in, and the morning free. She didn't have to be at the hospital till lunchtime......but she did have to work until 9pm in the evening.   
She turned over in bed and contemplated the day. 

A visit to the hospital staff notice board, to place an advertisement. 

Following the death of her beloved gran, Clara had inherited her flat. Her father had not been terribly pleased, the flat was a nice one, in a good area, it was a considerable asset.   
Clara had always been very close to her gran, especially since the loss of her mother. Her father remarried, in rather unseemly haste. The lovely Gillian.   
Right from the start Gillian had made it quite clear that Clara was someone's else child that she had no real interest in. Whilst she wasn't exactly the wicked step-mother, the two had circled each other warily and never really got on.   
Gran's place was her refuge. Her port in the storm. She went there after school everyday, and as she grew older she often stayed with her. It got her out of a house where she never felt welcome. 

After she started her nursing training, Clara saw as much of her as possible.....friends, both male and female were taken to meet gran, rather than her parents.   
Then she'd had a fall.   
Truth be known she'd been frail for a while. Clara had seen it gradually creeping up on her, but tried to ignore it. The fall finished her. Pneumonia set in and Clara lost one of the greatest influences in her life.  
It floored her for a while.   
Before the funeral, the will was read out, and Clara found herself to be the recipient of the flat. Her father got the rest, still a fair sum, but the flat was completely hers.   
Trouble was it was a lot to keep on, bills needed paying and Clara's wages were not massive. She needed someone to share the financial burden, and, frankly she needed company.   
Her life had become solitary, especially lately.   
As yet another tragedy hit her. 

So, she decided she would advertise for someone to share. Another woman, her own age preferably, she wasn't looking for love she told herself, since Nina she'd shied away from romantic liaisons, with either sex, she was nervous about extending the offer to a man, although it wasn't out of the question, simply because she was scared of what she might get. A male nurse would be okay, someone she knew from the hospital rather than a stranger. She had several male friends at the hospital, both gay and straight, she wasn't much bothered about that, as long as she felt comfortable.  
Her mind was made up. 

In the end the morning was frittered away, a coffee, a read of the newspaper, listening to the radio.  
Suddenly it was time to go to work.   
She knew that Vera, who was her allocated patient, on the relatively new 'total patient care scheme', had her psychiatric assessment that morning and was probably going to be transferred from ITU anyway, since she no longer required intensive care. She was anxious to know how it went.   
Clara was somehow inexorably drawn to Vera, there was an air of vulnerability and sweetness about her. She was sure that her life had not been a happy one. Yes, she felt sorry for her, but it was more than that, she cut a tragic figure, and Clara wished she could do something to help.

Walking onto the ward, she got quite a shock. 

Her colleague was cleaning down Vera's empty bed. 

"Where's Vera? Surely they haven't transferred her already?" She exclaimed.   
"No.....the psychiatric consultant was delayed, so they were going to transfer her to B Ward. She threw a wobbly. We had quite a scene! She was asking for you actually." Her friend replied, with a huff.   
"B Ward.....but that's male surgical! They can't send her there!" Clara was apoplectic. 

"They didn't have to!" Her friend retorted. "She discharged herself!" 

Clara couldn't take it in.   
There was no way that Vera was strong enough to go home. Either physically or mentally. 

"She phoned someone, from the booth in the hall. They came and fetched her. You should have seen him! A great big bloke.....in a frock......it was hilarious! There was nothing we could do to stop her. She went a couple of hours ago." 

Clara was stunned. Well, that was it then.   
Her involvement was at an end.   
Whatever happened to Vera to bring her into Clara's care, and what would happen to her next, she'd now never know. There was nothing more she could do.   
Would she go back to the Doctor's surgery to have her dressings changed? Would she receive any aftercare for her mental state.....of any kind? Would she rest and recover and regain her strength gradually?   
She very much doubted it. Just another statistic that fell through the cracks. 

All the rest of that day, Clara did her job to the very best of her ability, but her thoughts constantly returned to her patient.   
God! Sometimes this job could be so rewarding, but at other times equally frustrating!


	5. Ashes to Ashes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara goes on a shopping trip on her day off.....

CHAPTER FIVE.  
ASHES TO ASHES. 

That particular week Clara's two unrostered days were Thursday and Friday. The ward sister gave her every other weekend, they took turns, so on the second week she tended to have Thursday and Friday, otherwise she had to work a long stretch in between. 

It had been ages since she'd gone up West.  
All her friends were either working or busy, so Clara caught the bus and headed off for a bit of retail therapy on her own.   
She liked Oxford Circus but there were more quirky shops at the Tottenham Court Road end, and some nice restaurants, bistros and coffee shops in the back streets, close to The Palladium and Soho.   
It was here that she headed.   
After a couple of hours she was parched and her feet ached. So she turned them towards a little Italian coffee house she knew, where they did delicious pastries.   
A special treat.   
Walking in was a feast for the senses. A wonderful aroma of coffee beans, the plooshing sound of the barista machine, the chatter, the bohemian clientele.....she loved it. 

Who should be sitting alone in the booth in one corner......?   
"Vera!" 

She jumped a mile at the mention of her name.   
"God! Clara!" She returned in surprise. 

There was an awkward few seconds, before she indicated the seat opposite.  
"Join me?" She said nervously. 

Clara slid into the seat and regarded her ex patient with a worried expression.  
"Vera, are you okay? You discharged yourself so quickly......I came in to work and you'd gone....I was so worried!"   
She gave a slight smile, but didn't reply.  
"Vera? Talk to me! Have you had your dressings changed, or been to your GP surgery. You'd barely regained your strength, you were meant to be on bed rest for a couple more days." 

"I'm sorry Clara. I did try to ask them where you were. But they said you weren't on duty till later. When they said I was going to B ward I had to get away. I was worried about the psyche doctor too. I called Sandra, she came to fetch me." 

Clara could see how tired she looked. Washed out, pale, a slight sheen on the skin. 

"You're not working at the Pink Flamingo Club are you? Surely not?"   
Vera couldn't meet her eyes.  
"Oh Vera! You're still weak from blood loss, you nearly died for crying out loud.....you shouldn't be working until the early hours of the morning, you should be resting! Look at the state of your bandages. You need to take better care of yourself!" 

"I've got to work! And I've got a regular slot. The manager's been good to me, I owe him! It's regular work and it pays the bills." She shot back angrily. "Anyway, what is it to you what I do? I'm not in your care anymore. I've got to go. So I'll see you."   
She made to stand and leave. 

"Wait! Please! Vera......please, don't go. Finish your coffee. I'm not having a go at you. I care about you. I don't mean to interfere. It's none of my business what you do, I was just worried that you weren't well enough, that's all. I just want to help." Her look was so earnest that Vera hesitated.

"Why do you care so much about me? No one else does!" She scowled.

"Well perhaps that's the reason. Because no one else does. I like you. You're nice, nothing more....you've clearly had a rough time, and I just......well.......I just care. Sorry." 

Vera considered for a few moments, twirling the fine beads around her neck absentmindedly.   
She seemed to reach a decision, and looked at Clara questioningly, an earnest look on her face. 

"Do you really want to help me?" Her face looked so sorrowful that Clara was quite taken aback. She nodded an emphatic response.  
"I've not been back to my flat. I don't want to go......alone. And there's no one who'll come with me. Would you come? I need to see if I can salvage anything."   
"Vera. I'll come with you. No problem. Finish your drink and we'll go."   
Her gaze was one of disbelieving gratitude.   
"Thank you, Clara. Thank you." 

oOo

Vera lead the way into the narrow back street. It was a run down and tatty area, the doors to the properties opening directly on to the street. Paint peeling, broken guttering, several undesirable looking characters loitering about. They walked briskly without looking at or speaking to anyone.   
On reaching Vera's place Clara could see a length of yellow plastic Police crime scene tape flapping in the breeze. It had been fastened across the threshold but was now torn loose. 

Fumbling for her key, they discovered that the door was in fact unlocked. Clara leaned on it slightly and it swung open, revealing a sorry sight.   
Their footsteps crunched on fallen plaster under them, splinters of glass and other debris.   
Everything blackened and sooty. Water dripped from the ceiling rose where the firemen had extinguished the flames. Furniture was scalded and burned, the varnish on a coffee table blistered and bubbling. The floor scorched and twisted, contorted by the heat of the fire.   
Virtually nothing was salvageable in the main room.   
Clara stared around her at the carnage.   
"Good God Vera! It's like Armageddon." 

Her hand over her face at the sight of the charcoaled sofa, Vera began to sob noisily.   
"That's where she was......Connie......" She whispered. "Where she died! Where I left her, oh God Clara, I thought I'd killed her but I didn't !" She sank down to her knees and bowed her head.   
Clara could do nothing except put her arms around her and pull her into an awkward hug, crouched there amid the charred remains of her life. 

"Vera, you can't possibly stay here." They were seated now in the little galley kitchenette.   
The fire hadn't reached here, but everything was a dirty grey, covered in smuts and stinking from the thick acrid smoke that seemed to have enveloped the whole building.   
"My mate Sandra, the one who fetched me from the hospital, she said I can kip on her couch. For the time being anyway." She wiped her eyes, removing the smudged makeup. 

"Tomorrow I've got another day off, what say I come over with some rubber gloves and we attempt to sift through and try to save anything we can.......then you come to my place." Clara said, placing a hand on her arm. 

Vera's eyes widened.

"What? Why? Why would you do that? You don't know me." She seemed almost angry.   
"I know all I need to know. You need a place to stay. Look......" She took a folded piece of paper from her pocket, passing it to the flustered Vera. "I was going to put this on the staff notice board, the day you were discharged, but I forgot."   
Slowly she unfurled the page, and read the advertisement, raising her eyebrows as she did so.   
Clara continued....  
"I need a flatmate, you need a flat. You need a friend and goodness knows, so do I. Seems fairly straightforward to me. Unless you don't want to share with another girl?"   
"No! It's not that....I mean, I'll share with anyone.....but, you hardly know me.....the world I live in.....the awful things I've done.......my whole life is a mess, Clara! Punctuated by ghastly things that you've never even dreamed of. You're sweet and kind and innocent. Why would you want to share your home with the likes of me?" Vera turned away, shamefaced.   
Clara let out a loud scoff of indignation. 

"Do you know what?" She cried, "If I'd said something like that you'd have called me prejudiced!   
I'm a nurse Vera, I know that life isn't all fluffy kittens and rosebuds, believe you me! I've seen shit that would make your hair curl. I can see the sort of life you've led. It doesn't take much imagination. But it doesn't mean you're not a fundamentally decent person, and I think you are. You don't have to tell me about yourself, I don't pry. But I don't judge either. So don't you bloody well judge me!" 

"I'm sorry Clara." Vera stood up and paced, wringing her trembling hands. "It's just that I've been let down, so, so many times. I don't really trust anyone. People will say anything they think you want to hear. That DCI did it to me.........there's this man, Jackson, he's a pimp, he would have beaten me to a pulp as soon as look at me, killed me probably, because of the information on him that she wheedled out of me. I was in big trouble. And yes.....you're right, I need a friend. More than I ever have. So, so badly." 

Clara sighed.   
"Will you at least come and see the flat? Try it for a while? If it doesn't work out or you're unhappy, or we don't get on or whatever, then fine......but you could at least give me a chance." 

"Alright. I think you're completely mad, and you don't know what you're taking on. But I'm just so tired Clara. I'm tired of the struggle and the fight, just day after day. I honestly feel like I could sleep and sleep." 

Together they gathered some of Vera's clothes from the wardrobe, a few toiletries and a couple of personal items, not too damaged by the flames, and left to walk to the nearest bus stop.


	6. Absolute Beginners.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New flat, new friends.....

CHAPTER SIX.   
ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS. 

"Here we are. In you go!" Clara ushered her new friend into the hallway.   
Vera glanced about her with an audible gasp.   
"Oh, Clara, what a lovely place!" She breathed.   
"It was my Gran's. Sadly I lost her not so long ago. She left it to me in her will. But I have bills to pay, and it's a large place for one person alone. It's been a tough couple of years for me. A great deal has happened. I could do with some company, someone my own age, someone I can get along with, be a friend to, who'll be a friend in return." 

Vera placed her bags down and wandered the rooms in a daze. 

"This'll be your room, if you like it." She pushed open the door and held out her hand. "Bathroom is next door. My room is this side. Kitchen here, and living room at the front with the bay window. There's also a little box room I use as a sort of study cum junk room."

"It's a beautiful flat Clara. Far better than anything I've ever lived in. Well, since before I left home anyway! How much do you want in rent? I don't earn a great deal." 

"What were you paying in your other place?" She enquired, carefully. 

"£300." 

"Okay. Well how about you give me the same?" Clara smiled, then held out her hand....."Deal?" 

Vera took the hand in her own, wrapping her long, rather elegant fingers around Clara's tiny ones.   
"Deal!" She said, offering a little smile of her own. 

"House rules?" Vera enquired, as she continued to look about her.  
"Well, I'd prefer you not to bring clients here....but friends are fine, anyone you want." Clara replied after a few seconds thought.  
"Fair enough! To be honest, with Jackson inside, I don't owe him favours anymore, so I doubt there'll be any." 

 

"Right! Let's get your smoky clothes into the washing machine! And I'll put the kettle on. I'll have to think about something for dinner." Clara bustled off, leaving Vera to sort out her stuff.   
Some time later she knocked on the bedroom door.  
"Vera? You okay?" She peeped her head inside.   
Vera was seated on the bed, lost in thought. Her eyes glassy and distant. Hands in her lap, twisting a handkerchief.   
Clara snuck in and sat down on the mattress beside her.   
"Alright?" She said softly, she snaked her arm around the broad shoulder, and gave a little squeeze.   
"Keep thinking I'll wake up. That you don't really want me here. That your just pretending to be nice to me. People so often are." She whispered in reply, leaning in to the hug slightly.   
"You know what Vera? I've got a feeling that this meeting could be a good thing for both of us. I think it'll work out. I don't know why, but I have good vibes about it."   
Vera smiled.   
"Yeah. Me too!" She said, and rested her head on Clara's shoulder. 

oOo

Seated across the table in the kitchen Vera and Clara shared their first meal together as flatmates, and, hopefully, as friends.   
Clara poured a glass of wine.   
"Here's to us.....and a successful partnership!" She said, holding out her glass.   
They clinked the glasses together.  
"To friendship." Vera said quietly. 

"After we've eaten, will you let me take a look at those dressings? They'll become infected if they're not changed regularly." Clara asked as she sipped her drink. " I'll be able to leave only light gauze on them, and let the air get to the wounds. They'll heal more quickly. I can take the stitches out for you, when they're due, but you should at least go to the follow up appointment, or see your GP. Maybe you should register with a doctor here. There's a surgery just down the road." 

"I'll let you look. They feel itchy." Vera replied. 

Half an hour later, Vera was watching intently as Clara carefully and gently removed the bandages, and wadding.   
She hissed in pain as the coverings were eased off.   
"Sorry. I'm trying not to hurt you."

To distract herself, Vera focused on Clara's face. The deep concentration in her large eyes. She was a pretty girl. Round face, lovely brown hair, with natural highlights, her tongue came out onto her lip as she gave all her attention to the healing lacerations on Vera's wrists. 

"How old are you Clara?" She asked gently, sucking in another breath as a particularly badly stuck piece of dressing was removed.   
"29." Clara answered in auto mode, not really concentrating on her replies. "What about you?"  
"35. And isn't there anyone special in your life? I can't believe you don't have a nice young fella?"   
Clara laughed.  
"Nope. No nice young fella!"   
"Okay.....a nice young lady then?" She tried gingerly.  
Clara's big chocolate brown eyes looked up into her lapis blue ones.   
"No nice young lady either." She said quietly. "Stop fishing Vera! My love life is non existent, okay?"  
"Not always, surely?" Vera pressed.   
Clara huffed.   
"I don't want to talk about it......maybe sometime, but not right now, okay?"   
"No one special for you either then?" She returned.   
Vera scoffed.   
"Goodness me no! Sandra is about my best mate, but she's not a love interest, we've been through a lot together and she helped me out when I first came to the club."   
"It must have been hard for you. When did you first realise?" She opened a packet of gauze swabs and began to cover the scars on Vera's wrists.   
"Not sure. I was about twelve I think. But I think it was always there to be honest, even when I was very young. I hit puberty, and I felt so strange. Except that strangeness just didn't go away. It just got worse. My teenage years were a car crash. I went off the rails, ended up in prison. I was twenty by then. I was set upon by a group of boys, they attacked me. I put one of them in hospital."  
Vera reached for her wine glass and swigged.   
"God, Vera, how bloody awful." Clara packed away the dressing materials, and joined her on the couch.   
"Awful isn't the word. I went to a male prison, I was raped pretty much every night. I still have nightmares, even now. That was the start of the slide.....I just didn't really have anywhere to go, nowhere I fitted in, except the world of the club and the people who frequent it. That's why I did this." She waggled her wrists in front of her.   
"I thought I was going back there, and I just couldn't face it. I didn't mean to hurt Connie. When I think about it now I don't know how it really happened. That bloody journalist! Oh, Connie knew too much.....far too much. About Kennington and about Parker-Jones. It was just a matter of time, which one got to her first. It's all such a bloody mess. And I was right in the middle of it. You wouldn't believe it would you? The son of a vicar! Private school, the best of everything! Look at me now!"   
"Your dad was a vicar?" It seemed so unlikely, it almost had to be true.   
"Posh too.....lived in Surrey." Vera smiled at the irony, " What about you?"   
"Blackpool. My mum died when I was young, Dad remarried, came South, I spent a great deal of time with my Gran, I loved her very much. She was fond of me, that's why she left me this place. My step mum and I don't see eye to eye. I hated going home as a teenager, so I used to come here. This flat has nothing but happy memories." Clara seemed to be far away, as she recalled her adolescence. 

They talked for a long time, far into the night. Although Vera felt that there was a great deal that both of them still needed to say.   
It was nearly two before they went to bed.   
Clara lay awake even then. Thinking about her parents, her mum particularly, her gran, Nina......and Danny.   
Danny.........she hadn't told Vera anything about him. Or mentioned his name. But she gave him his five minutes. 

She felt herself beginning to drift off to sleep, when a sound woke her. A low moaning, almost like an animal in pain. Listening for a few more moments, she rose, donned her dressing gown and slippers and went into the hall.   
Her ear pressed against Vera's door.   
A sound of excruciating pain like she'd never heard before. A mournful howl. There was a rawness to it, which tugged at Clara's heart. Muffled from time to time as she obviously attempted, unsuccessfully, to stifle the noise.  
Opening the door quietly, she padded softly inside.  
"Vera?" She murmured.   
The sound stopped abruptly, as if cut off, strangled, in an instant.   
Clara reached out her hand in the darkness, touched the shoulder. She looked so big, curled in the bed, knees bought up to her chest, head buried in the pillow.   
"I'm here. Please don't cry." 

"Go away, Clara. I'm fine!" The voice barely under control.   
"He died." Clara whispered.   
"What? Who?" Vera replied as another sob wrenched itself from her.  
"My nice young fella. He was a soldier. Last year he was run over in the street, I was talking to him on the phone, telling him I loved him, and how I'd never ever say that to anyone ever again."   
She began to weep softly herself.   
"You're the first person other than my family that I've told." 

She felt Vera turn in the bed, and sit up, her crying momentarily hushed.  
"I had a girlfriend before. When I was training, Nina. She was wonderful. I met Danny at work, he'd given up the army. Wanted to put something back, that's why he worked at the hospital. It was as if he wanted to make amends. He killed someone........he killed someone Vera, and it affected him so badly. It was a child. He never got over it. We were together a year. I loved him. He's gone forever." 

Arms came around her and held her tight.   
She hugged in return. It seemed the right thing to do.   
The only thing to do. 

They hugged and cried, together. 

Friends.


	7. Absolute Beginners.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and Vera are becoming close friends.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story isn't going to be too much longer.  
> My chief reason for writing it is to give Vera a future, that we don't see when she is carted away in an ambulance, then never seen again.  
> That is what I set out to do. 
> 
> I also want to explore Clara a little and move her on aswell, from Danny's death, and that will be my other main purpose. 
> 
> Please note that timings in this AU are completly non sequential. The story is set in the nineties. Clara has met and lost Danny but it has no relevance to anything other than her own life.

CHAPTER SEVEN.  
BOYS KEEP SWINGING.

Life settled into a rather odd but somehow ordinary domestic structure.  
Clara got up in the mornings and went off to work. Leaving Vera sleeping in.  
They ate together most evenings, then Vera went off to the club. 

They shared the housework and the laundry. Clara hated ironing, Vera didn't mind it.  
Vera was hopeless at cooking, Clara enjoyed it.  
It was a partnership. There was seldom a cross word between them. 

If they were feeling particularly flush, they might go and eat out, or take in a movie.  
People often stared at the petite young woman, with her companion towering over her.  
Vera was six foot if she was an inch, they made an unlikely pair. 

For the most part Clara ignored the looks. She cared not a fig what people thought, as far as she was concerned Vera was a woman. She never treated her as anything other than that.  
It never occurred to her that someone else might be offended that she was in the Ladies, or that she was stared at in clothing shops when they went shopping together.  
When Vera showered or bathed, Clara respected her privacy.  
She stayed out of Vera's private life, if she had men friends then Clara never saw them, so she either kept them away from the flat or she didn't entertain them at all. Clara never asked. 

There was no one at the hospital she liked. No one she fancied. She didn't really go anywhere else where she might meet someone, male or female.  
Vera thought it an awful waste, for such an attractive and generous young woman. At present however, the only company she sought seemed to be her own. 

Exploring the area around Clara's flat, during the day, Vera discovered that in the local library, evening counselling sessions were held, for those bereaved, or those in need of support in any way.  
Unbeknown to Clara, she signed them both up. 

Telling her friend later that evening, she was furious.  
"Why Vera, why did you think........?"  
"Clara, I'm going to go. You don't have to come. No one is forcing you, least of all me. But I just feel it might help me......so I thought it might help you too. A chance to bring stuff out in the open." 

They went.

Together. 

Vera saw, for the first time, all the hurt and pain that her new friend held inside. All the guilt she locked away under that mask of her smiles and her open cheery face. The mask she wore everyday. She put it on with her uniform, she wore it as she worked, it seldom slipped.  
It broke her heart to see Clara fall apart.  
This was the third or fourth session they'd been to, and suddenly there it was, she broke, all the sorrow pouring out of her like the water over Niagara. 

Catharsis. 

That night it was Vera who comforted her little friend, not the other way around.  
She was there for her. It was a step Clara would never have made on her own.  
Maybe now she could begin to move on. 

oOo

Quite who's idea it was, she wasn't sure.  
But there it was. 

Clara Oswald, sitting at a table surrounded by a raucous, largely male audience, a mixed bag to say the least. As they whooped and hollered, singing along to the backing track, the spangled ball suspended from the ceiling, spinning slowly round. The stench of booze and sweat, mingled with heady perfume, and a whiff of greasepaint. 

The Pink Flamingo Club was a pretty sleazy place. 

Vera was embarrassed to bring her friend here. She felt it was a world in which Clara did not belong.  
She, however, was having the time of her life, as one by one the acts came on.  
When finally Vera emerged from behind the silver strips which decorated the sides of the stage, the appreciative crowd were whistling, cheering and catcalling.  
Launching into Marilyn Monroe, with plenty of "boop boop be do".  
A wiggle of the hips, a quirk of an eyebrow. A wave of the expressive hand.  
It was showmanship. The crowd loved it. 

Clara clapped along with everyone else.  
Looking down from the stage, the brightness of the spotlight almost blinding her, all Vera could focus on was Clara's beaming face.  
She was introduced afterwards to Vera's friends. She greeted them all in exactly the same easy manner that she'd first spoken to Vera.  
Somehow she simply managed to see what was there. No judgements, no preconceived ideas.  
Clara just accepted.  
It was one of her greatest qualities. If not THE greatest.  
Vera was daily grateful for that fact. 

oOo

On club nights, Vera laid in the next morning.  
Clara was on early shift.  
It had been more than six months now. 

To Vera's surprise Clara didn't seem to have tired of her company, or her friendship. 

Perhaps she wasn't just pretending to like her after all, it was a new concept, one that took Vera a while to adjust to.  
Being liked for being herself.  
No pretence.  
It was liberating, it was humbling. 

To while away a couple of hours she went to the library. It was somewhere she enjoyed being. No one really took much notice of her there.  
There was a coffee shop.  
Newspapers spread out to be perused. 

And books.

Vera loved books, as a solitary and lonely child, most of her time had been spent reading.  
Curling up with a good book was a joy.  
Her imagination could fly. A whole world opening up. Taking her away......love, romance, adventure, anything she could picture in her head was there between the pages. 

Just as she was leaving, an advertisement caught her eye.

_"Librarian Wanted........please apply to........"_

She stopped dead. Read the ad two or three times. Then, on a whim, jotted down the address, telephone number and job description on a piece of paper from her handbag. 

Reaching home, she found Clara had just come in.  
"Clara.....what do you think of this......do you think I should apply?"  
She told her about the job as they sat over a cup of tea in the kitchen. 

"I think it's absolutely wonderful! You'd be perfect!" Clara enthused. 

"You don't think they'd laugh at me. When they see what I am......" 

"Well, Vera.....if they do, it won't be the first time......and it sure as hell won't be the last! So you've got nothing to lose! I say go for it." 

oOo

To say she was nervous was an understatement.  
It was Clara's day off and seeing her friend fretting over her choice of outfit and makeup was almost comical.  
"Should I wear a skirt......they'll just think I'm a tranny! But do you think trousers aren't formal enough? Oh God, this is a nightmare! They're just going to laugh me out of the ball park!" 

"Vera......stop! Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. And for gods sake, don't try too hard! Just be who you are, like you do when you're with me." She gave Vera's arm an encouraging squeeze. 

"But it's different with you. With you I'm completely comfortable. Because to you, I'm just one of the girls, it's what I've wanted all my life, it's the reason you're the best friend I'll ever have. The reason I love you so much." 

Clara was flabbergasted, and immediately burst into tears.

"Oh, Vera! That's the most lovely thing to say!" She hugged her tight. "And I love you too, you're a dear. You've helped me more than I can say. And I'm so glad you're here, and we're friends. I had a feeling we'd be good for each other, and I was right!" 

oOo

"How do I look? Too much? Not enough?" Vera did a twirl. 

"You look just fine! Come on, let's go! You'll be late." They left together, and arrived a few minutes early. 

"Wish me luck!" 

As Clara watched her disappear into the interview room, she wished for far more than luck. If only they could see it in their hearts to look favourably upon her. She had a good education, she was bright and articulate. Just one good thing, that's all it would take.  
She waited nervously. Vera was gone for quite a while.  
Eventually she emerged, but her face was crestfallen.

"Well?" 

"They said they'll let me know.....they've other people to see." 

They went for a coffee together.  
"Vera, don't be too downhearted. They may genuinely have other people to see. What were they like in there?"

"Quite nice actually. But then, people often are. I'm used to it.....the pretending. Par for the course!" 

"How many were there?" Clara sipped her latte.

"Two. Miss Simmons......she's about sixty I'd guess.....coming up to retirement soon. I guess that's why the job is being advertised, although she's got a little while to go. And Mr. Parkinson....he's about forty-five.....a bachelor, I'm guessing, no wedding ring.......quite nice looking......"

"Vera!!!!"

"Well, he was! You can't blame a girl for noticing!" 

They laughed together. 

oOo

It was more than a week later.  
Clara had been on early shift, and came home at five thirty, to find Vera, sitting on the floor in the living room in floods of tears. Clutching an official looking envelope.  
She rushed to her friend's side.

"Vera? What is it? What's happened?" Finding herself wrapped in a warm hug, Vera cried all the harder.  
"It's my letter.....from Mr Parkinson......about the library job."  
"Oh! Vera, I'm so, so sorry! I really, really am. I know how much you wanted it! But there'll be other jobs......something will happen!" 

"No........Clara! You don't understand! I've got it. They've given it to me. I start next month!!"


	8. Golden Years.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera starts her new job......

CHAPTER EIGHT.   
GOLDEN YEARS. 

Sometimes there is one event in our lives that, for one reason or another, completely changes the course of it.   
A sudden change of heart perhaps, that makes us go in one direction instead of another.   
Or a moment of indecision which causes us to pause, think again, reevaluate and therefore alter our destiny.   
If Vera had not been in the Police Station on that particular day, had not been convinced that she'd killed Connie and been bought so low, that the only way out she could see, was to end it all, she would never have ended up in hospital, fighting for her life. She would never have met a young nurse called Clara Oswald.   
Even then, it could have ended there. However strong the connection between them.   
Had Clara not decided to take herself up West, to go shopping, and stumble across Vera in the coffee shop......

A random sequence of events, unconnected, unplanned, that conspired to bring the two people together.   
Both lonely.   
Both lost in different ways. 

The most unlikely of friendships.   
Yet it worked.   
There was complete trust. 

Clara treated Vera the way she'd always craved to be treated.   
Not as a freak. Not as the subject of derision or disgust.   
To Clara, Vera was the woman that she saw herself when she looked in the mirror. A woman she wished with all her heart, she could one day become......properly......clinically.   
The woman she was saving so desperately to be.   
She had struggled all her life against her biology. The feelings of guilt and shame which tormented her.   
Knowing that inside, she was not the man that she was on the outside.   
It was a painful and traumatic life. A daily struggle for acceptance, to be free from ridicule and prejudice. 

It was a long road. 

Having someone like Clara, who believed in her. That made all the difference.

oOo

Vera had left the world of The Pink Flamingo club behind. 

Against the odds. 

She still saw her friends. Sandra and the other girls, she probably always would.   
In spite of everything she had escaped from the clutches of the manipulators, the abusers, the exploiters.   
The world of rent boys and porn, of paedophiles and rapists. The culture of drugs and prostitution which had become part of her way of life.   
Her life now had order, structure. Purpose. Friendship. 

She was still stared at, whistled at in the street sometimes. Still endured the bigotry.   
But somehow it mattered less.   
Because life was no longer hopeless, she felt she had a future. Something to live for. 

It was a slow realisation, a gradual dawning.   
After four months working at the library. 

Vera enjoyed the job more than she could say. Miss Simmons, who was training her, was a genuinely nice person. It occurred to Vera however, that dear, rather cloistered, somewhat innocent Miss Simmons, old fashioned as she was, didn't actually realise.......she just thought Vera was rather tall and a trifle masculine!   
It came home to her one day in one of the things she said, that gave the biggest clue.....

"Are you alright Vera dear?" 

"Yes, just a bit of a headache!" 

"Oh dear! Time of the month?.......I'm so glad I've finished with all that now!" 

Vera almost snorted with amusement, she didn't have the heart to tell her.

No, it was Mr Parkinson that was the revelation.   
Awkward, bashful and reserved Mr Parkinson.........William........Bill. 

"I was wondering Vera........do feel free to say no........I won't be offended......if you'd fancy going out for a drink sometime?" 

That was the start of it.   
Nothing major, certainly nothing which moved faster than the speed of a slightly geriatric snail.   
Bill was shy. Painfully so. 

Flustered and inarticulate outside his comfort zone.   
Had lived at home with his mother, until she passed away two years previously. 

It was a gradual thawing process.   
Vera had been honest right from that first drink.   
Told him exactly what she was, how she felt. Everything. 

Bill, it seemed had been out with a transsexual before. Mother had disapproved.  
Well, mother was dead now. He was forty-six......he could damn well do as he liked. 

The first time Vera bought Bill home.....

Home! 

The first time she could really say it, since she'd left her parents place at the age of eighteen. 

Taking a man home to meet her best friend and confidante. 

"Clara......this is Bill......who works at the library with me!" 

And of course, Clara greeted Bill in exactly the same wonderful welcoming way she greeted everyone.   
Vera's nerves soon dissipated.   
Clara was happy for her. Why wouldn't she be? 

That night after Bill had gone home, there was a little tap on her door.   
Clara came in with cocoa.  
They sat together on Vera's bed, and talked.   
Like two girls together in the dorm! 

Mallory Towers!! 

"What do you think?" 

"I like him! He's sweet! Sweet on you at any rate!" 

"I'm trying not to think too far ahead!" 

"Eminently sensible!" 

"Clara.....I want to ask you something.......you know I've been saving hard?" 

"Yes. Of course." 

"Well, I want to start hormone treatment. The thing is, it takes eighteen months to a couple of years, prior to surgery.....and it's difficult.....lots of symptoms......lots of massive changes......"

"And you need a friend? Someone to rely on?" 

"Well.....yes. Bill has said he'll help me. He's been very supportive. But I'm scared....of course." 

"Of course you are. But if it's what you want......"

"It's what I've always wanted.......always." 

"Then I'm there Vera. Whatever it takes. Okay?" 

They hugged each other, Vera cried happy tears. This was another potential new beginning.   
A whole new life!   
It was scary. But it was real.


	9. Loving the Alien.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera is undergoing treatment. Clara, however, is struggling badly........she decides on a career change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. The story has achieved what I wanted to achieve.....I hope.  
> Prime Suspect is such a tragic story, full of sorrow and pain.......I was desperate to know what happened to Vera after she was carted off to hospital.  
> What I've written is what I hoped Vera could find......acceptance, love. Peace. I realise that is highly unlikely......but hey.......it's a story.......miracles can and do happen.  
> As for Clara.........well.........read on........

CHAPTER NINE.  
LOVING THE ALIEN. 

Vera was some way into her treatment.  
It had been tough.  
Such drastic changes. Physical as well as mental.  
Beginning to see herself in a whole new way. 

Voice changing, testicles shrinking, breast tissue growing. 

Without Clara, Vera would never have coped.  
Bill was a dear, and very kind, but it was Clara who held her when she cried, who kicked her out of bed in the morning and got her off to work, when she could barely face the prospect of the day ahead.  
Who made sure she was okay, and who was a willing ear as she poured out her troubles. 

They had been sharing now for more than two years.  
During the last few months Vera had been so wrapped up in what was happening to her it had been difficult to focus on much else.  
Despite the momentous events in her own life, however, and the major up turn in her circumstances, she did not wholly neglect her best friend. 

Vera was most concerned about Clara.  
She rarely mixed with anyone much outside of Vera herself and one or two hospital friends. There seemed to be no interest in relationships. That, she felt, was not normal for a healthy young woman of her age, attractive, lively and unfailingly generous. 

She tackled Clara about it one evening. 

To her surprise, the reaction was not what she expected. Clara was defensive, even angry, and resentful.  
She didn't want anyone. She didn't need anyone. She was happy as she was.  
Sharing the flat with Vera was all she wanted. 

Vera was concerned. Her relationship with Bill had grown, and was ready to move to another level.  
It had been over a year now. He'd asked her to move in with him.  
Vera refused.

She would not abandon Clara. 

Her own happiness would be sacrificed if it meant leaving Clara alone. Vera owed her so much.  
She was torn. 

It all came to a head one evening when Bill was invited for dinner.  
Clara had been teaching Vera to cook. She was justifiably proud of her achievements. On this particular evening, she was alone in the kitchen......tinkering.  
Leaving Bill and Clara to chat. It was an innocent comment, but it left Clara puzzled. 

"I asked Vera again last week." He remarked, as part of a conversation, in which Clara asked Bill what his plans for the future might be. 

"Asked her? Asked her what?" She replied.

"Asked her if she'll move in with me. Hasn't she told you?" Bill was confused. 

"She might have mentioned it!" Clara was cagey. Of course she hadn't mentioned it, she hadn't said a word! 

"........It's such a shame. I don't know what to do really. Or what to say. I've asked her several times, but she always says no.....not yet.......wait a bit......but I say, why wait any longer?" Bill sighed. 

Vera entered at that moment.......bearing puddings. 

"Vera, why didn't you tell me Bill asked you to move in with him?" 

Her expression was one of horror. Eyes wide, red faced with embarrassment, flustered and slightly annoyed with Bill for unwittingly spilling the beans, before Vera had the chance to tackle Clara directly. 

"Oh I don't know......it must have slipped my mind." She stammered. 

Realising the subject to be a difficult one, but misreading Vera's reasons, Clara clammed up.  
Her thought was that Vera just didn't want to live with Bill, for some reason, not that she didn't wish to abandon her friend. 

It wasn't until after Bill left that the truth was eventually wheedled out of her. 

Clara was devastated. 

Not for herself, but that Vera would put her own happiness on hold, for her sake. 

oOo

The following week, Clara was working, she'd been transferred to a new ward. Was having trouble settling in. It wasn't good anymore. 

Truth be known she was struggling generally. 

The revelation of Vera's the week before had affected her profoundly.  
She was very low.  
The prospect of her friend leaving was not one she'd really contemplated. She'd always somehow imagined that it would be her trying to let Vera down gently about moving apart, not the other way around.  
The thought that Vera had been prepared to throw away her own chances because she was so worried about Clara, hurt deeply.  
It rankled.  
That she should actually be the cause of that!

She was sure that Bill loved Vera. He'd been completely accepting and helpful and thoughtful. 

Vera was happy. 

She had what she'd always most wanted, someone who loved her for herself.  
To imagine she'd throw all that away! 

It was unthinkable. 

oOo

 

Big decisions had to be made.  
Clara had always looked after herself, she was strong and capable. Her job required it. 

Losing Danny had floored her. 

It had forced her to think about herself and what she wanted from life, but instead of forcing her outwards, to chase her dreams, it had pushed her inside herself, and made her regretful of the past and the dreams she'd lost.  
Meeting Vera had almost become her 'project'. Not in a nasty way, but it gave her something to focus on other than herself, and her own misery.  
It made her needed.  
She had purpose, and that was what she craved. To be useful.  
Vera needed her, she was there. It was that simple. 

The counselling sessions had helped Clara get over some of the grief and guilt she felt about Danny, but it had not given her back her drive and focus.  
She simply didn't want to think too far ahead anymore. There was always something to blame for preventing her from doing that.  
It was a safety mechanism, she was using Vera's treatment as an excuse for not making a new and exciting life for herself. 

That situation had to change.

Clara knew it. She discussed it with Vera at length.  
She needed a life, to take back control, to get herself out there.  
Motivation. Hope. 

With this in mind Clara enrolled in a dancing class. Ballroom.  
Each week she went and tripped the light fantastic!  
It was a fun group. Mixed ages, but there were a couple of women her age, and they regularly went out for drinks after the class. 

She also decided that she would like a complete change of career.

This was big. 

Clara wanted to become a teacher. 

She enrolled with the Open University.  
Started a degree. It was a lot of work, but she wanted to do it.  
She knew she could.  
It made Vera happy to see her, getting out there.....taking part in life again. 

There was a great deal of work involved in the course and it was difficult to juggle it with full time work at the hospital.  
Her father, with whom she had little contact, was supportive however, he began to take more of an interest in his daughter and gave her a small sum of money, to put towards anything she might need for her studies.....books, extra tuition fees, course fees and the like. 

Clara used some of it to purchase a home computer.  
She taught herself basic computer skills. It took time to master, and she wasn't very adept!  
The hospital was gradually moving over to computer use. The old cardex systems were being phased out, everything was changing very rapidly. 

She'd experienced a number of problems.  
Eventually forcing her to return to the shop. 

The woman there was very obliging.  
She even gave her the number of a help line.

The Internet was a relatively new thing for her. But she was determined to move into the nineties!  
She was writing an essay. After shutting down the computer overnight, the following evening, there was no connection.....she couldn't get the essay back!  
Where the hell was it? All that work.  
How could she retrieve it? 

Where had she put that number? The one from the lady in the shop?  
Clara dug around in her handbag. Here it was. 

She dialled it.  
It rang and rang.  
No reply. 

She tried again.  
Still no reply.

She'd give it one last try.  
Ring, ring. Ring, ring. 

_"Hello?"_

"Hello? I can't find the Internet." 

_"You can't find the Internet?"_

"No. Where is it? Why don't I have the Internet?" 

_"It's 1207!"_

"I've got half past three!" 

"Am I calling a different time zone?" 

_"Yeah! You really sort of are!"_

"God! Will it show up on the bill?" 

_"I dread to think!"_

_"Where did you get this number?"_

"The woman in the shop wrote it down. This is a helpline isn't it? She said it's the best helpline out there. Best in the Universe!" 

_"What woman?"_

"I don't know, the woman in the shop." 

_"Who is this?"_

"Clara. Clara Oswald." 

_"Clara........? Clara.........who?"_

"Clara Oswald." 

_"Hang on! Don't hang up!"_

oOo

It was seconds later when the doorbell rang, accompanied by a frantic knocking.  
Clara was expecting Vera, and guessed she'd forgotten her key. 

On opening the door, she got quite a surprise. 

It wasn't Vera. 

It was a man. 

He was about her own age. A lovely smile. An open, joyful face, with twinkly expressive eyes.  
His thick brown hair was parted at the side, floppy at the front.  
Handsome in a quirky way.  
Big chin. 

"CLARA OSWALD!!!!" He exclaimed, holding his arms out wide. 

"CLARA OSWIN OSWALD!" 

_"Just Clara Oswald! Who are you?"_

"DO YOU REMEMBER ME?!!!"

_"No! Should I?"_

Clara was confused.

 

He was dressed as a monk...........

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the telephone conversation at the end, please go to The Bells of St John. (I've made a few subtle changes to fit in with my story, but it is essentially the same)  
> The first episode in the second half of series seven, of Matt Smith and Jenna, as Clara. Clara's story will continue on from there........
> 
> Thanks to all those who commented or left kudos. You are very kind. And I appreciate it greatly.

**Author's Note:**

> Today I have changed the story description and the tags slightly. There's going to be a surprise twist to the end of this story. That's all I can say......spoilers!


End file.
